


a strategist and a genius

by laireshi



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-05-24 08:15:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14950970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laireshi/pseuds/laireshi
Summary: He loves Tony.Because, because, because; every time Steve sees him, he adds one more reason to the list.





	a strategist and a genius

**Author's Note:**

  * For [quantumdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quantumdragon/gifts).



> This is written for your prompt "sad pining". I hope you enjoy!
> 
> With thanks to runningondreams for being the best beta.
> 
> There's a Chinese translation available [here](http://hailstony.actbbs.com/forum.php?mod=viewthread&tid=6161&extra=page%3D1&mobile=2). Thanks to [Stephanie_Sui](https://twitter.com/Stephanie_Sui)!

_He won’t ever love you_.

Thinking it almost doesn’t hurt anymore. Steve had realised this simple little fact years ago, and everything that has happened since only serves to confirm it. It’s just how things are: he’s hopelessly in love with Tony Stark, and Tony’s a genius and a futurist and will never look at Steve like that, will never consider a relationship with a relict of the past. 

For example, even back before their war, when they’d started a new Avengers team and everything seemed to be all right:

Steve was waiting for Tony to come home. He was tired and Tony was running late, probably held up in some meeting, maybe reviewing R&D work. Steve had been sketching, but he was growing ever more weary, his eyes closing on their own. It’d been a long day.

“Sleepyhead,” Tony said, and Steve sat upright, only then realising he’d fallen asleep. Tony was looking down at him with a small smile, still wearing a coat over his business suit.

“You’re back,” Steve said.

“I wouldn’t normally wake you,” Tony said, “but you’d have a crick in your neck.”

“Thanks,” Steve said. Tony was right; hunched over his notebook on the sofa was hardly an ideal sleeping position. Still, something warm went through him at the thought that Tony _cared_. 

“You should go to bed,” Tony suggested. 

Steve wanted to go to bed with Tony. Luckily he wasn’t quite so sleepy as to say that out loud, though. “I wanted to ask you,” he said instead. “Do you maybe have time tomorrow? Go grab a coffee? Like—” _Like a date_ , he thought, but Tony was shaking his head already.

“Sorry,” he said. “We’re still negotiating with Roxxon. It’ll be a busy couple of weeks.” Tony’s smile was gentle and apologetic, as if he knew exactly what Steve really was asking him.

Steve shakes his head, pushing the memory away. Of course, then the war happened, and the incursions, and why, _why_ couldn’t Steve stop loving Tony? They are friends. It has to be enough.

He knows why; the answers are always there, at the back of his mind: because Tony’s smart and beautiful and brave. A true hero and a good man. Because he pulled Steve from the ice and because he _is_ home in a way the mansion and the tower aren’t.

Because he’s good with kids and keeps investing in green energy, because he never stays down and he always builds back up, because his humour might be sharp but he never mocks with the intention to hurt, because he stays up for hours trying to build the Avengers better equipment and because he smiles _just so_ when he sees Steve. 

Because, because, because; every time Steve sees him, he adds one more reason to the list.

But Tony will never love him. He hadn’t loved him over all the years before, and he definitely won’t now, not after what Steve has done.

 _It wasn’t you_ , Tony tells him, repeatedly, but people still cower at the sight of him.

“Winghead,” Tony says.

Steve startles. He looks up and Tony’s standing in front of him, still in his coat and suit from a day at Resilient, like a perfect déjà vu of memories Steve’s been dwelling on.

Tony shrugs out of his coat and sits next to Steve. “What’s wrong?” He winces. “No, don’t answer that. Can I do anything to help?”

 _Kiss me_ , Steve thinks, but he’s not pathetic enough to actually say it. And it wouldn’t really solve anything, either.

“I don’t know how to get through this,” Steve admits. 

Tony looks at him carefully. “That Hydra clone of you,” he says. “He was everything you aren’t. Yes, he might’ve had your planning abilities, but the stuff that matters? The stuff that makes you _you_? He was the perfect mirror image. And I think that says a lot of good things about you.”

“What if he wasn’t that different?” Steve asks. “What if I have the capacity to become like him?”

“You’ve used the Cosmic Cube, Steve,” Tony says quietly. “You’ve wielded the Infinity Gauntlet, too.” His voice is tight and it’s obvious he’s as uncomfortable with that memory as Steve is, but he keeps talking. “If you were a lesser man, you would’ve abused that power.” He tilts his head, smiles. “ _And_ you keep forgiving me.”

Steve’s throat goes dry. 

He could say it. It’s not like he can ruin anything more at this point. And maybe he owes it to Tony, to tell him the truth, to stop pretending. 

Maybe he just doesn’t want to keep any more secrets.

Whatever the reason, he catches Tony’s eyes and he steels himself to do the scariest thing in his life. 

“I love you,” he says.

Tony’s face transforms into his public mask. “Cap,” he says, and god, he can’t even use Steve’s name anymore? “Are you—quite sure Kobik didn’t . . . Maybe we should ask Stephen for scans . . .”

“I’m me,” Steve snaps. “This isn’t _new_.”

Tone opens his mouth and closes it. “It’s not?”

Steve shakes his head mutely.

“Oh.” Tony blinks a few times. “Maybe it’s me,” he muses. “Maybe I’m still in that coma and dreaming.”

“Tony,” Steve snaps. He’s about to cry. 

Tony looks back at him. “You love me,” he repeats. “I—I never let myself hope—”

“Hope?” Steve interrupts, uncertain.

Tony smiles, a quick sad thing. “I’ve loved you for years,” he says quietly. 

They look at each other. They look away. They look back.

They move at the same time, like in battle, thinking as one; their mouths crash together and they grasp at each other.

Tony’s moustache is tickling Steve’s face and his suit is smooth under Steve’s hands. He’s as intense in kissing as he is in every other part of his life.

Steve pushes him slightly away, but holds him by his lapels. He doesn’t want Tony to _leave_. He just . . . 

“You mean it,” he says, in wonder.

“Steve,” Tony says. “I love you.”

“Why did you never say,” Steve lets out. Years, years of _he’ll never love you back_ , and—

Tony gives him a look that clearly says _why didn’t you_ , but then he sighs, actually replies. “I was scared. I knew you couldn’t love me back. Your friendship was so much already.”

Tony’s supposed to be a genius, Steve thinks, but then, Steve’s supposed to be a strategist. They’re both very stupid, it seems. 

He kisses Tony again, still a bit disbelieving that he gets to do it, and again, and again; more certain each time, more sure.

 _He won’t love you back because it’s not in some far-off possible future: he already does_. 


End file.
